


Evermore

by tallestgirlonearth



Series: I was only for your very space [3]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s22e04 Sightless in a Savage Land, Episode: s22e06 The Long Arm of The Witness, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s19e13 The Undiscovered Country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tallestgirlonearth/pseuds/tallestgirlonearth
Summary: Rafael wants to meet him again. Outside a courtroom, with no ulterior motives other than to talk.They used to do that back in the day, when, during their long nights poring over casefiles, they sometimes migrated from their chairs towards Rafael’s couch, or maybe even to a bar close by.Sonny can’t believe that Rafael would want to do that – still,again– after having left the DA’s office and, for all intents and purposes, him as well.But Rafael does, and Sonny’s heart sings.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Series: I was only for your very space [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147100
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Evermore

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> This piece concludes my other stories ["exile"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27937417) and ["Wisconsin"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242600). Once again I've used a song to make the words go, this time it's Taylor Swift's "Evermore" which also features Justin Vernon a.k.a. Bon Iver the songwriting god. 
> 
> As I may have mentioned, I'm a latecomer to the SVU universe and I started this series still reeling with the heartbreak of Barba's departure, but also hopeful because I knew Raúl would come back and guest star soon - hence the angst and my attempt to unravel the knots and give these two the storyline that the writers wouldn't. 
> 
> This series is very dear to me, so a kudos or a comment would mean the world :) Enjoy and thanks for reading!

Back when he was in law school, Sonny used to think that if he worked his ass off, cooperated with his old brothers and sisters in blue, delivered good arguments at trial, secured a fair plea deal, and so on, justice would be served. If he mastered the tools of the legal trade, he’d be able to do some good, and then go home and have a peaceful night’s sleep, certain of himself and of his place in the world.

Even though he was already working as a cop and had his fair share of run-ins with wily defense attorneys and overworked ADA’s, he still clung to the belief that he could work towards a higher purpose in life, pour so much of himself into his work, and still come out a whole and happy man.

In hindsight, he doesn’t know how he could ever be so foolish.

He saw how his fellow detectives at SVU struggled. Most of them had been in therapy at least once, and some who were especially committed, like Liv, continued to go. Sonny saw how hard both she and Amanda worked to preserve their mental health, to carve out a life for themselves outside of the job.

He saw what happened to Barba, who, for all Sonny knew, lived and breathed only for his work. It turned out to be his downfall, and it still scares Sonny to the bone that the man he admired so much was brought so low in spirits that he sabotaged his own career.

What scares him even more is that, after only about a year and half in the DA’s office, he understands Barba’s struggle – the balancing act of wanting to achieve justice for the assault survivors but having to do it with a shaky case, all the while the defense attorneys were looking for just the smallest of missteps, the media were constantly baying for blood (and it didn’t matter much where it came from), and the people who were supposed to have his back, the squad, expected him to work miracles.

Getting a prison sentence for Judge Charles Gallagher drives that point home like nothing else, because while he is still feeling the adrenaline rush of putting a rapist behind bars, the euphoria is soon superseded by the knowledge that it happened only because Judge Lewis didn’t belong to any old boys’ network and held herself – and the perps in front of her – to the highest moral standard.

Everyone did their jobs on this case, but in the end it came down to a stroke of luck and being assigned a judge who was an outsider in the rich white men’s legal world, and sought to overturn it. These days, Sonny often wonders whether that is how Barba felt, too. A Harvard man, but only on a scholarship. A boy from the projects who became a man in sharp suits at fundraiser galas. A good man, a kind man, fighting for justice with the tools the law gave him, but having to rely on detectives who didn’t always care so much about the details of the law they’d sworn an oath to uphold.

Being pulled apart by all these combatting forces and perceptions, many men would fray at the seams, and Sonny knows there’s no shame in feeling stressed out; hell, it’s par for the course for a junior ADA. He just wishes, irrationally so, that accomplishing what he always wanted to do, finally working in the career he so long dreamed about, didn’t come accompanied by the realisation that even now he still can’t do it all right.

He feels almost like a tightrope artist who moves so high above the world, but is still tethered to it by unforgiving gravity. And there’s no safety net.

Sonny wonders whether Barba has finally found his safety net. He seemed well the last time they spoke at Forlini’s, and in the days of the trial before that. He was relaxed, in spite of the tricky case. Happy, even. He certainly smiled more than he ever did in his time as SVU’s ADA.

Having a lot of these smiles directed at him, hell, just sharing the same space and air with Barba again brought all the old feelings rushing back to Sonny – not that they were ever gone, he just pushed them towards the back of his mind.

The respect he felt for Barba as a colleague.

The fond exasperation because, God, the attitude of the man could really drive you up the wall sometimes.

The admiration, because Sonny always knew Barba was brilliant at his job, and had to overcome so much adversity to get there.

And last, but foremost, the swooping feeling in his stomach, the sweaty palms, the accelerated heartbeat, the cocktail of physical reactions and tangled emotions Sonny felt whenever Rafael looked at him with those vivid green eyes of his. When he could smell the man’s cologne. When they touched, however brief and innocent it was.

Sonny’s no longer confused about what all of it means, but he still doesn’t know what to do about it, especially not now that Barba’s back in his life – well, back in New York at least.

He just knows that he can’t let the man go again. Maybe there’s a chance for them to reconnect properly, for Sonny to tell Rafael all the things that have been going through his mind in the past months, to apologise for not supporting Rafael when he needed him, to tell him that they’re still okay, that whatever happened Sonny knows that Rafael is a good man.

Not tonight though, when he’s all over the place about the Gallagher case.

\---

When Sonny’s alarm rings the next morning, he blearily reaches for his phone and shuts the damn noise off. Blinking at the screen dimly illuminating his bedroom, he slowly focuses enough to see the chat notification on his screen.

> **From: Rafael Barba, 11:32pm**

What?

His brain is still half asleep, but Rafael’s name on his screen is enough of a jolt to his nervous system that he immediately fumbles to unlock the phone. He clicks on the icon and a text chain opens that has been silent for so long – until now.

> _I heard about the case. It’s probably customary to offer some words of comfort in this situation, but you’re not one to be coddled, and you’re experienced enough to know that people like Gallagher exist, and the world is their oyster. So, I’ll just ask, what truly prompted this late-night bout of defeatism?_

It’s a long message, too long to just be a quick check-in. Sonny scrolls up a little and another text bubble pops up.

> **From: Me, 11:29pm**
> 
> _I think I’m starting to understand why you were so crabby sometimes. This job is like tilting against windmills._

Oh God.

Apparently he didn’t just go to bed to dream about Rafael like he usually would last night. Instead, in his tired, overemotional state, he decided to text Barba in a “bout of late-night defeatism” – or just the pathetic need for some kind of connection.

It’s embarrassing to say the least, but at least Barba answered, and he didn’t sound mad.

Jeez.

For a moment, Sonny scolds himself for overanalysing the hidden subtext in a short text, but then he immediately has his next soap opera epiphany, because, shit, he never replied. Rafael probably thinks he was drunk. That he didn’t mean to reach out.

That won’t fly.

No matter how embarrassing this is, what it might mean for Sonny’s professional or personal relationship with Rafael, Sonny can’t have the man thinking that this message was just a mistake. Stupid maybe, yes, but no contact Sonny initiates with Rafael could ever be a mistake.

> **From: Me, 05:58am**
> 
> _Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on and then ghost you. I guess I fell asleep. But thanks for replying, anyway._

Sonny is halfway through his morning routine of washing his face, brushing his teeth and assembling his outfit when his phone pings again.

> **From: Rafael Barba, 06:10am**
> 
> _That’s okay. Good to know you’re not suffering from insomnia yet._

Alright, Rafael really sounds like he’s not mad. It’s a brief text, but polite. Not a lot to go on, so Sonny contemplates what he should reply with – the question if he should is unnecessary, because here they are, texting each other, and Sonny wants to keep going for as long as possible, he’s so scared of silence between them. But Rafael beats him to the punch.

> **From: Rafael Barba, 06:16am**
> 
> _My question still stands, by the way. You’re probably on your way to work now, but if you want to and have the time, you can let me know what put a damper on your usually irritatingly cheerful disposition._

There’s a hint of their usual banter in the last sentence, because Rafael used to rib him about his enthusiasm on the job. However, the other man also took the time to once again ask him what’s wrong, in so many words. The offer is there, black on fluorescent white. Rafael is willing to talk to him, to listen even, and although it would be a conversation about the job they have in common, it’s still a very personal gesture from a normally guarded man, and Sonny is touched.

More than that even. The brief exchange via text is enough to lift the last remnants of last night’s despondency, and by the time he arrives at One Hogan Place, Sonny thinks about when he might find the time to properly reply to Rafael with a flutter in his chest.

> **From: Me, 12:13pm**
> 
> _I’m on my lunch break now. You still wanna hear about sex crimes stuff?_

He’s just sat down on a park bench with his sandwich when he gets the answer he so eagerly awaits.

> **From: Rafael Barba, 12:21pm**
> 
> _I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. Spill, Carisi._

Sonny wolfs down his sandwich and takes his phone in his hands again. He thinks for a moment, and then it comes rushing out in probably the longest string of messages he has ever written another human being.

> **From: Me, 12:34pm**
> 
> _It’s not even really about the case. I mean, you know that as an ADA you see much of the same shit as the detectives do._
> 
> _It’s just that as a cop I was never alone. I was part of the squad, and part of the NYPD, and we always had each other’s backs. Now…_
> 
> _I don’t know what I am now. I still see them all the time, and I go for drinks with them, but it’s so different from what it used to be. Tamin, she’s new to SVU, said she couldn’t believe I ever was a cop. I suppose I should be happy about that, that I don’t come across as the Staten Island loudmouth anymore, but it stung. More than I expected._
> 
> _It’s like I’m constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place, and you know me, I’m always running around trying to help people. I still do. But lately I feel like I can’t get it right for anyone anymore. Hadid constantly pressures me for results, wants me to plead most of my cases out, and SVU wants the exact opposite. They want me to nail the perps to the wall with only the flimsiest of evidence. And when that doesn’t work, I think they see me as some sort of enemy._
> 
> _If we ever made you feel like that, and God we probably did, I’m really sorry. You always did your best, and I think a lot of the time we didn’t appreciate that._
> 
> _So, there you have it. I’m a bit of a mess these days, and I’m sorry if this is too much to take in._

Sonny sends the last text with shaking hands.

Everything is out in the open now, and Rafael knows exactly how much of a mess Sonny is. They know each other well and it’s no secret that Sonny has always been a people-pleaser. It will be easy for Rafael, observant as he is, to read between the lines and recognise the loneliness screaming at him with every word. A part of Sonny feels relieved that he’s found an outlet for the many negative thoughts and emotions in his head recently, but he’s staggeringly afraid of what Rafael’s reaction will be – or lack thereof. Rafael offered to listen, but what if he’s not up to untangle Sonny’s mess and play agony aunt, despite his good intentions?

Sonny would probably crumble under the impact of the rejection.

As it is, he has to get back to work and hope his current slew of cases is enough to distract him from thinking up distressing but entirely possible scenarios as to how this text conversation could play out.

He’s halfway back to his office when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Several times.

> **From: Rafael Barba, 12:57pm**
> 
> _First of all, stop apologising for what you feel and for giving voice to your thoughts. It’s unflattering and won’t do you any good in court._
> 
> _Secondly, I offered to listen, repeatedly, and I know you well enough to suspect that whatever got you down was more than just the woes of a tough case. You always were strong enough to rise above the terrors of this work._
> 
> _That being said, yes, I’m also familiar with this people-pleasing streak you have. Believe it or not, it was easily to suss out when you came to my office to butter me up with coffee and baked goods just so you could argue with me about precedent._

Sonny lets go of a breath he didn’t notice he held in. His heart stopped for a moment when he read the first text, the words reading too much like a criticism of his actions. But he forced himself to continue, and with the second text came all the reassurance he needed to know that it really was okay to tell Rafael about his troubles. He got even more than that – a _compliment_ , unasked for but readily and sincerely given, on his strength of character that, right now when he’s doubting himself so much, means more to him than he can put into words. The third text brings a smile to his face. He remembers those incidents well – sometimes early in the morning, when he was out on a case all night and accosted Rafael right when the man arrived at work, sometimes during the day when he offered to run files to the DA’s office, but mostly in the evening, with the baked goods exchanged for takeout. Rafael might call it “buttering up”, and maybe that’s not entirely untrue, but Sonny just wanted to show how grateful he was to the ADA for giving him some of his precious time, and Sonny couldn’t give much in return. Over the months and years, their conversations amounted to _a lot_ of time spent together, and Sonny wouldn’t be half the lawyer (and the man) he is without them. He’s happy that Rafael remembers, and with some degree of fondness, too, no matter what his actual words might suggest.

What comes next wipes the smile from his face and leaves his mouth hanging open.

> **From: Rafael Barba, 01:01pm**
> 
> _What you just told me wasn’t too much. I know the feeling, to a lesser extent, perhaps, because I was never part of the brotherhood in blue, but as you so eloquently put it, nailing perps to the wall with little to no evidence is something that SVU expected me to do, too. For lack of a better expression, it sucks. I wish I could offer you an easy solution, but there is nothing else to do but stick it out. If I can help with that, please let me know._
> 
> _In fact, since I’m back in New York, I might let you buy me a coffee sometime this week? All socially distanced of course._

Rafael wants to meet him again. Outside a courtroom, with no ulterior motives other than to talk.

They used to do that back in the day, when, during their long nights poring over casefiles, they sometimes migrated from their chairs towards Rafael’s couch, or maybe even to a bar close by. The conversations were always about work, at the beginning at least, but at some point Barba would offer his insights in the shape of little anecdotes about other perps, and cases (or even other lawyers), and Sonny would reply with a story from his family’s vast repertoire of amusing incidents. After that, their talk was less about what they saw at their workplace, and more about the experiences that shaped them as individuals. Sonny treasured every single moment, because he never believed Barba would actually open up enough to allow a glimpse at his thoughts and emotions.

Sonny can’t believe that Rafael would want to do that – still, _again_ – after having left the DA’s office and, for all intents and purposes, him as well.

But Rafael does, and Sonny’s heart sings.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself as he crosses Foley Square, it’s just a catch-up between old acquaintances. Except they’ve shared more confidences than most co-workers would, especially today, and Sonny can’t deny that he very much wants this to be a date.

If only Rafael felt the same.

They never had a conversation about themselves in relation to each other, how they interacted and what it could mean. The closest they ever came was that brief moment during the D’Amico case, when Sonny tried to cheer up a troubled Rafael.

“I admire your,” he hadn’t even been able to get out the words, but Rafael had finished the sentence for him. “Suicidal streak,” he’d offered, with a questioning lilt to his voice and a smirk on his face, as if he was open for the suggestion that Sonny might admire other things about him.

Sonny enters the lobby of the DA’s office and nods to the security guards.

Soon after that moment, the death threats had happened, then Dodds passed, and Sonny almost lost himself in the maelstrom of emotions that followed. Emphasis on almost, because he clawed his way back out of the anger and despair.

Rafael didn’t.

Rafael left, leaving Sonny in the lurch with so many things unsaid.

But Rafael is back for good, and he wants to meet, and perhaps it’s time to come clean about suicidal streaks and hero worship, guilt and longing, everything that was always there as static in the air between them.

> **From: Me, 01:13pm**
> 
> _Yeah, I’d like that. Friday 3pm work for you?_


End file.
